


Feel Something

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Omega, Bottom Sherlock, Bottoming from the Top, Case Fic, Hand Jobs, Jealous John, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Knotting, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Possessive John, Possessive Sherlock, Rimming, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Somewhat, Top John, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: When Sherlock lets himself get his first heat, he has one request of John: to let him feel everything





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baking_at_Baker_Street](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baking_at_Baker_Street/gifts), [Hobocamp (fandango)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandango/gifts), [ANNUNNAKI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANNUNNAKI/gifts).



> This is being re-uploaded since I don't know how to properly use ao3 yet. Either way, for the people who originally wanted this to be longer, I hope this suffices!

John watched Sherlock with an unending patience that surprised the consulting detective even after a total of eight years. John was leaning against the counter, a cup of tea in his right hand that he occasionally sipped whenever Sherlock began writhing in heat. This was an agreement they’d come to. After so many years of taking repressants, Sherlock had finally stopped taking them at least six months ago, much to John’s appreciation. It was unlike Sherlock to let John see him in any vulnerable state. Usually, it was normal for the omega to dominate the room whilst at a crime scene and John usually watched right beside his detective, giving his opinion when needed because it was Sherlock who knew what was best in these situations. As an alpha, John had an impossible sense of patience, something almost all alphas absolutely did not have. John attributed it to his days in the war, learning immense self control was of utmost importance when alphas couldn’t control their damn impulses around an omega, especially when their heat came to fruition.

It was what drew Sherlock to John and the detective knew this. At first, he deduced that John might be a beta what with the amount of self control he had. Most alphas had to make themselves known in a room, especially in a room full of omegas. It was all about dominance to most alphas. Power, control, and breeding. For a very long time, Sherlock swore to himself that he would live out the rest of his years alone than belong to some imbecile alpha. 

Then, John.

Of course everything changed after John because Sherlock’s controlled life flipped onto an entirely different axis where Sherlock was forced to look at things through a more humane observation. It didn’t take Sherlock very long to fall in love with John and abhor the man at the same time for making him feel anything akin to love. But somehow, as sure as he was married to his work, Sherlock became espoused to the army doctor as well. Sherlock found himself making space for John, physically, emotionally, and mentally. He noted he would make two cups of tea instead of one. He held doors open for John rather than rushing off to the next location. He considered John’s well-being before his own. The man even had his own room in Sherlock’s mind palace. Everything was  _ John  _ and, one day, Sherlock awoke to a realisation that he didn’t care anymore.

John looked at Sherlock now, this impossible and brilliant man who was now causing a wet spot to pool on the leather couch below him, his curls matted down by sweat. John thought that Sherlock couldn’t look anymore beautiful than he was now, but the doctor knew that was impossible.

They’d had an agreement, John recalled, where Sherlock said:  _ When I get my first heat, I want to feel it. All of it. The emptiness, the need, the burn. I want to know what it’s like. John...I want you to be there to watch. To tell me what to do. Then, when I am at my wit’s end, when I can’t take it anymore....I want you to take me. Knot me. When I say it, you’ll know. Don’t give into me until I say it, John. _

John readjusted himself in his chair, his cock already hard from the pheromones in the air and the sight from Sherlock alone. The tea was the only thing John knew would calm him down and prevent him from giving into his baser instincts to  _ breed  _ and  _ fuck  _ and  _ own. _

“Sherlock,” John spoke for the first time in what felt like hours

Sherlock’s head immediately snapped over to where John was sitting and his eyes clouded over in confusion as if he’d forgotten John was there.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Sherlock nodded and rose onto shaky hands before pulling himself off of the couch. With trembling steps, the detective made his way down the hall to their bedroom. John set his mug down onto the side table next to his chair and followed behind Sherlock silently, feeling like a predator trying to catch its prey.

John shut them into the room where Sherlock was now standing, fiddling with the hem of his ratty, grey t-shirt.

“Strip,” John ordered softly, slowly rounding Sherlock as he quickly pulled his shirt off, then his pajama bottoms. “Touch your toes.” John murmured, careful not to touch the detective in any way that would set him off. Sherlock swiftly leaned over, showing the slick dripping down the back of his thighs. A growl rose from the base of John’s throat, but he pushed it down and took a deep breath. “Good, Sherlock,” John finally let his hand drift down the contours of Sherlock’s spine, eliciting a sharp intake a breath from the man below him. “You’re so good for me.”

“John... _ please. _ ” Sherlock gasped, trying to push his hips back against John. With quick movement, John pulled back so that Sherlock touched nothing but air. A whine left the detective’s mouth, then a frustrated groan.

“You’re not at your wit’s end quite yet, Sherlock. Lie on the bed for me. On your stomach.”

Without another word, Sherlock gave a nod and climbed onto the mattress, his alabaster skin standing out against the silk sheets. John let out a shaky breath and began to undress. Sherlock watched over his shoulder through widened eyes. When John removed his pants, Sherlock began to grind his hips into the bed.

“ _ Please.  _ Give it to me.” Sherlock gasped.

John grabbed a pillow. “Hips up,” and Sherlock followed, letting his alpha put pillow under his hips so that Sherlock would have something to grind against. John also knew it was a simply a torture device–that Sherlock would never be able to come alone from grinding against a pillow no matter how wound up he was. Not in a heat.

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, then his breaths turned panicked as he began to realise what John had just done. His hips couldn’t stop grinding, even if he had wanted them to stop. With each thrust, a gush of slick pushed out of Sherlock’s hole until the pillow below him was wet enough for the sound to resonate off of the walls. 

“ _ John...ungh. God, please. John. Please. Fuck me. _ ” 

John watched, enraptured and hungry at the sight below him. He absolutely wanted to devour the man below him, make him his. And it would be so simple if he just leaned down and spread Sherlock open for him…

John shook it out of his head, pushing the alpha in him back into a corner, no matter how much with each wave of slick that left Sherlock had John feeling as if he was being driven mad.

Sherlock was still grinding against the pillow below him, sobs being punched from his throat. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and onto the sheets below him. But there was no sign of Sherlock coming close to a stop. His knuckles had turned white from clenching the sheets in his fists, his hips doing quick and sensuous thrusts against the pillow, following his baser instincts to  _ keep going  _ and  _ don’t stop. _

John held back a moan and began rounding the bed to look his omega in his eyes. He could see the veins straining against Sherlock’s pale hands, his curls were wet from his sweating, and his verdigris eyes– wet with tears–were entirely unfocused as if Sherlock was lost somewhere within himself, nowhere to be found.

“God,” John gasped upon seeing Sherlock entirely lose control.

With each thrust, Sherlock released short, baritone grunts until his entire body was trembling. His jaw was set and, with every other push of the pillow against his cock, Sherlock would release a shaky wail that resonated within John’s head, a sound he would keep and store with him forever.

Then, Sherlock’s eyes met his. Verdigris to midnight blue. And Sherlock didn’t look away. His hips continued to slam against the pillow, shoving his cock against the material.

“ _ John. _ ” it was all Sherlock said, but it was enough for John feel most of his control leave. A growl punched its way out of Sherlock’s throat and Sherlock’s eyes rolled back with a tortured, broken moan. “Knot me. Do it.”

That was the only cue John needed, rounding Sherlock’s body until he stood in between the man’s long, pale legs. John pulled himself onto the bed and spread Sherlock open for him.

_ Take. Fuck. Knot. _

John pushed his cock deep into Sherlock’s hole without any preamble.

Sherlock came immediately with a muffled scream.

His cock shot out endless streams of come and John continued, surging into Sherlock as if he were trying to climb inside the man himself. Sherlock rose his hips to meet every thrust, his head turned so that he could see John better. Then, John pulled out and swiftly turned Sherlock onto his back. His hips and torso were nearly covered in his own slick, but his cock was still hard against his stomach. John thrust back into his omega, leaving Sherlock breathless. Now, there was no space in between them. John’s forehead pressed against Sherlock’s, their eyes never leaving one another’s as John began to roll his hips to slam against Sherlock’s prostate on every thrust.

Sherlock’s hands scrabbled up to grab John’s face as if holding the alpha in place as moans fell from his lips like a litany of prayers. 

John could feel his knot forming at the base of his cock and began slamming into Sherlock harder, eliciting the most carnal sounds from the both of them.

“ _ Yes,  _ John _. John, John. Please, knot me. Make me yours.”  _ Sherlock sobbed as John’s knot began pushing past his rim, making Sherlock feel he was being ripped in half.

John’s fingers wrapped into Sherlock’s curls, tilting his head back, and sank his teeth into the pale skin. With a shattering scream, Sherlock came forcefully, his hole taking in John’s knot. John growled lowly as his cock emptied itself into Sherlock, his hips trembling with the force of it. Then, John was pulling back to run his tongue along Sherlock’s bite to ease the pain.

They were still for a very long time, Sherlock’s breathing slowing back to normal despite the mini orgasms his body forced him into upon John’s knot being pressed directly against his prostate. 

When their eyes met, John saw that Sherlock was still crying.

“Did I hurt you?” John asked, concerned.

“Of course not,” Sherlock scoffed, leaving out his usual  _ don’t be ridiculous.  _ “You were perfect, John. Absolutely perfect.” he leaned up so that John could meet him halfway in a kiss. Their lips molded together, much like their bodies, leaving them both breathless. Sherlock’s body trembled with the movement and gazed up at John with a fondness the doctor didn’t think would stop surprising him. “Thank you.” Sherlock murmured.

“Anytime.” John smiled, kissing the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, then his lips. “Anything for you.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi: consulting-writer@tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

When John’s knot finally deflated, he pulled back to look at Sherlock who was covered in a sheen of sweat. “Water?”

“God, please,” Sherlock rasped.

“Hold on,” John gently pulled out of Sherlock, eliciting gasps from both of them. He rose to fetch a flannel from the bathroom to clean them off and a glass filled with water when he walked back into their bedroom, he found Sherlock slowly stripping the bed.

“We made a  _ mess _ ,” Sherlock said, almost in wonder. He looked up at John and, throwing him a grateful look, took the glass and downed it faster than John had ever seen Sherlock drink anything.

“How do you feel?” John asked, coming behind Sherlock to clean the slick between his thighs as well as John’s come seeping out of him. An immense wave of possessiveness washed over John as his eyes washed over Sherlock. He noticed that his omega’s cock was still painfully hard.

“ _ Needy, _ ” Sherlock answered looking back at John with his bottom lip poking out. John gave him a sympathetic smile. “Really, it’s a lot,” Sherlock continued. “All of my senses opening up–I can feel you all around me, smell you, and the pheromones are just telling me to…” 

“Submit,” John finished for him and Sherlock gave him a knowing look. “That’s the omega you’ve been shoving down for decades.” John noted, assisting Sherlock with the sheets. 

“How do you  _ control  _ it?”

“You don’t,” John murmured. “At least not when your heat occurs. It should be a time where we entirely lose control with each other.”

Sherlock smirked. “It is rather nice,”

“Yes, it is. I’ll go make tea to warm us up before we’re ready to give it another go and...are you throwing those in the wash?”

“Yes,” Sherlock responded. “I’ll just replace them.”

“Okay,” John affirmed, taking the glass and flannel, and left their room for the kitchen. As John started the water, he could hear Sherlock setting their sheets into the wash and realised, even from far away, he could  _ smell  _ Sherlock. The slick still between his thighs, John’s scent mingled with his, letting every other alpha who could smell him from miles away that Sherlock was absolutely  _ his.  _

John, involuntarily, felt his cock begin to fill with the blood at the very thought. He tried to focus on something else, perhaps the tea, to no avail. 

When Sherlock rounded the corner and saw John at full fledged hardness, a whine fell from his lips. He wasn’t quite aware that he’d made the sound, but John had heard him, his head turning to look at his omega who was standing a few feet away, his pupils dilated.

John didn’t need any further evidence.

“Sod the tea?”

“Sod the tea.” Sherlock affirmed and, with a flick of his wrist, John turned the stove off. He rushed over to Sherlock and easily lifted the taller man in his arms, pushing the contents off of the table, setting Sherlock down with a solid thud. Their lips met with fervour and John rush raced down his spine as the severity of the situation washed over him. Sherlock was entirely his, his first heat  _ ever  _ belonged solely to John and the alpha felt a growl rumble deep within his chest.

A deep wave of arousal shot through Sherlock, his slick thickening in amount.

“ _ John, _ ” Sherlock gasped. “Take me. Knot me.”

“Oh, I  _ intend  _ to,” John whispered as he grabbed Sherlock’s thighs and eased into his omega who released a long whine at the feeling of being filled. John growled and slammed into Sherlock, directly against his prostate, causing Sherlock’s back to arch as his lips parted to release a long groan. 

“God, you’re perfect,” John moaned through gritted teeth, driving into Sherlock faster, influenced by the sounds of their skin slapping together, more of Sherlock’s slick seeping out between them. “Look at you,” John continued, his right hand lightly wrapped around Sherlock’s neck.

“ _ Oh, _ ” Sherlock gasped, his body releasing more slick at the weight of John’s hand around his neck. His  _ alpha.  _ “John,” Sherlock shuddered, his hips rising to meet John’s now fervently. “Knot me.  _ Please _ . I need it.”

John, with his free hand, lifted Sherlock’s leg and placed it onto the table, driving deeper into his omega. He leaned forward, scenting the man under him, his teeth scraping Sherlock’s bonding bite, eliciting a surprised moan from Sherlock. John began to lightly squeeze Sherlock’s throat.

“ _ Mine,”  _ He growled against Sherlock’s skin.

“ _ Yours,  _ John.” Sherlock moaned, his leg rounding to pull John closer. “Always.”

“Fuck, Sherlock,” John gritted through his teeth, his knot forming at the base of his cock. The table creaked under their weight, threatening to give away, but John didn’t cease, burying himself within Sherlock until Sherlock’s screams were echoing off the walls as his hole stretched with the force of John’s knot and John followed behind, eliciting a growl deep within his chest as he emptied himself within Sherlock, the alpha within him sated, his hand releasing Sherlock’s throat.

When their breathing slowed to a normal pace, Sherlock spoke first.

“I never made the bed,” He noted, then they were giggling. The movement proved not to be such a good idea when John’s cock pressed against Sherlock’s prostate, eliciting a smaller orgasm from his omega, his hips shaking from oversensitivity. “Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Sherlock moaned, breathless.

“Couch?” John asked.

“Couch.” Sherlock agreed.

John lifted Sherlock with ease, pulling them off the table, and marched them into the living room. He sat on the sofa, Sherlock in his lap, John’s knot keeping them together and Sherlock gave a small, experimental thrusts along John’s cock, his body jolting as the knot keeping them together forced Sherlock to stay in place. 

To help, John rolled his hips, pressing harder against Sherlock’s prostate causing the man above him to be forced into another orgasm, his body releasing full fledged shudders as the pleasure shot through his body.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful when you come, Sherlock.” John growled, pulling Sherlock down so that their foreheads were pressed together. Sherlock’s sweat soaked curls brushed John’s skin and he found himself overwhelmed at  _ his  _ scent covering Sherlock.

“ _ John _ ,” was all Sherlock rasped. 

But John knew. With a short nod and a grip on Sherlock’s hips that would probably form bruises later on in the day, John began to thrust shallowly. He did as best as he could with him and Sherlock still knotted together. Sherlock shuddered at the constant pressure against his overused prostate, eyes welling with tears.

John gazed at him, pausing. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Sherlock growled.

“Okay,” John licked his lips and the movement caught Sherlock’s eyes who immediately leaned in to press his lips to John’s. John kissed back passionately, grasping the curls at the nape of Sherlock’s neck to hold him in place. John’s tongue explored Sherlock’s mouth and Sherlock gave into him freely, letting John swallow his moans once he began thrusting again.

“Please don’t stop,” Sherlock whispered between kisses.

John’s teeth softly sank into Sherlock’s plump bottom lip and pulled. “I don’t plan to,” he whispered lowly, his thrusts quickening. Sherlock’s cock bobbed between them, red, begging to be touched. It made John’s mouth water.

“Like this?” John growled lowly, his own voice unrecognisable to his ears. Sherlock nodded vigorously. “Are you going to come for me again?” 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Sherlock sobbed. “Yes, John. God, yes.  _ Yes… _ ”

“ _ God _ , you beautiful creature,” John noted with pleasure that Sherlock’s body was trembling from the consistent pressure against his prostate, the tears falling freely now. John, with his right hand still wrapped in Sherlock’s hair and left gripping his waist, fully pulled Sherlock down onto the length of his knot, holding him place, forcing the head of his cock against Sherlock’s prostate. 

With a blinding flash, a sob ripped its way from Sherlock’s throat at the abruptness, his cock immediately spilled over between him and John. With each release, John slowly and shallowly thrust into Sherlock, watching hungrily as his cock released spurt after spurt until Sherlock sagged against him, boneless, his breath washing over John’s neck.

John laid them back onto the sofa, despite the mess. He could feel his knot deflating and Sherlock groaned in response. 

John chuckled. “Just means we’ll have more rounds.”

He felt Sherlock grin against his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave a comment and let me know what you liked about. All feedback is important!
> 
> Come and say hi: consulting-writer@tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sherlock's heat, Lestrade appears with a new case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while since I updated and I'm feeling a tad bit rusty. I will admit, I've been working over this and looking over it for a week now and what with me starting a new job, I'm exhausted, so please let me know if there are any errors and I will fix them asap!
> 
> With that being said, enjoy!

Chapter Three

Eventually, Sherlock’s heat came to its end. It happened on the fifth morning when Sherlock woke to a satiated feeling coursing through his veins, something more powerful than cocaine could ever provide. Sherlock woke that morning next to his John and felt the grin spread onto his face before he gathered himself together, wrapping himself in a dressing gown, and let himself into the hall. He realised things would go back to normal and the thought itself felt strange, especially as Sherlock pulled out the kettle to make John and him their morning tea.

Sherlock grabbed two mugs and set them down on the counter as he let his brain fully wake up and focus on the world around him. In the sitting room, he could see dust gathering in the living room, he could smell the formaldehyde holding body parts in the fridge, he could hear Mrs. Hudson watching telly downstairs. All in all, Sherlock felt more  _ aware  _ of his senses than normal and he knew it was all due to him fully opening himself up to who he was, removing the suppressants from his life. They dulled everything around him.

Barely five minutes of silence had passed before the heavy sound of footsteps sounded up the stairs.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock greeted the DI without looking back at him as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Greg,” John said. “Case?”

“Yeah…” Lestrade trailed off, looking between the two. Lestrade was an alpha himself and John knew that the DI knew exactly what he and Sherlock had been up to. “Anyway,”he turned to Sherlock. “Double homicide. All supposedly drowned, but they keep appearing in the Thames every other week at the same time.”

‘ _ Time?”  _ Sherlock inquired, somewhat invested.

“Three o’clock in the afternoon on Tuesday. We’ve had a few runners call in to tell us. It’s like they’ve just suddenly  _ appeared.  _ No one has been to identify their bodies.”

Sherlock blinked. “It’s  _ Monday. _ ”

Lestrade looked down at the floor. “Scotland Yard thought they had it handled.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Are all of them  _ idiots?” _ John decided not to note that Sherlock hadn’t added Greg into the insult.

Sherlock nodded, slowly, brainstorming. “Alright. John and I will follow you in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Lestrade acquiesced, retreating back downstairs.

“Damn, no tea,” John almost pouted as Sherlock turned the stove off.

“There will be time for tea later. Come on, John, let’s make ourselves look presentable.”

~~~

Sherlock and John arrived at the coast after Lestrade where the crime scene had been. Half of Scotland Yard was there, waiting for the pair. As they closed in towards Lestrade, they saw he was standing next to someone.

“Who is this?” Sherlock inquired, annoyed. “You know incompetent people slow my thinking process.”

“Actually,” Lestrade said, ignoring Sherlock. “This is DI Kensington. He’s heard a lot about you, wanted to put a face to the name.”

The DI was tall, a bit taller than Sherlock, and he had short hair and cerulean eyes. His stance gave off the appearance of a stereotypical alpha: dominant and in control. “The famous Sherlock Holmes,” John gritted his teeth at the way the man’s eyes drifted down Sherlock’s body. “Thomas Kensington. Pleased to meet you.” Sherlock shook his hand swiftly, already disinterested.

“Yes, can we please get on with it? Lestrade?”

“Oh! Sure,” Lestrade led them down to the bank where the bodies had been found. Sherlock followed closely behind Lestrade, taking in every ounce of information and every sight there was.

“He yours?” DI Kensington suddenly inquired as John and Thomas were left behind.

“ _ Excuse me?”  _ John asked in a threatening tone. “Is he  _ mine?  _ Like he’s some sort of  _ dog  _ to be possessed and owned?” John knew the difference from when he called Sherlock his and from the way Thomas was saying it. 

“Sorry,” Thomas said, raising his hands, but John could see the amusement in his eyes. “Just trying to start conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, sod you and your conversation,” he nearly growled, stalking off to keep up with Sherlock and Lestrade.

“...floating on their backs.” Lestrade had finished as Sherlock looked out at the water.

“And you said they were found at three?”

“Yes.” Lestrade nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for Sherlock to say something else. He and John turned as Thomas finally reached them, but Sherlock continued looking over the horizon.

“Obsessed with threes. Found on their backs...our murderer has an obsessive compulsive disorder.” Sherlock muttered, but John was sure the detective didn’t realise he was doing it.

“But Tuesday is the second day of the week,” Lestrade pointed out.

“Not when you’re starting with Sunday,” Sherlock turned to look at Lestrade. “In primary school, we’re taught: Sunday, Monday,  _ Tuesday _ , and so forth. They’re found at three in the afternoon, but here’s the strange thing–it’s in the afternoon, broad daylight and not at three in the morning because  _ whoever  _ it is, wants these bodies to be seen immediately. That means before these runners pass, these people have  _ just  _ been murdered. He holds them underwater on their backs so that while they’re drowning, they can  _ see  _ him. We’re dealing with a sadist.”

Although the subject was dark, John couldn’t help the way his mouth ticked up into a proud smile as Lestrade stared at Sherlock in amazement.. “That was–”

“Brilliant.” Thomas immediately cut him and John clenched his jaw so hard, he heard his teeth clash.

Sherlock frowned at the compliment coming from Thomas, and said nothing. 

“Come on, John. Let’s go home and start investigating.”  Sherlock started the way.

“Wait,” Lestrade called after them. “Take Kensington with you, for now, he’ll help you with anything you need. I’ll be at my office getting the autopsy reports and crime scene photos.”

John turned, his fists clenched. “We don’t–” he began, but Sherlock quickly cut him off.

“If I could get a list of the runners you’ve interrogated, that would be immensely helpful,” Sherlock said, causing John to throw him a look and,  _ oh _ , if looks could kill...

“Don’t worry,” Thomas said, gazing at Sherlock. “I can help you out.”

 

~~~

 

John didn’t like it.  _ Any  _ of it. He and Sherlock went back home with DI Kensington following behind them as Lestrade headed back to the station to gather the much needed files. When they got behind the walls of 221B, John took his jacket off and muttered something about the kettle and stormed off.

Sherlock immediately began brainstorming as he moved the couch to start what John called  _ the wall.  _ Horrendously beautiful thing it was, in John’s opinion, as it was the only foresight he had into Sherlock’s mind. He loved watching Sherlock construct it, climbing along the couch, using  red thread to make connections with pins.

“What are we doing?” Kensington asked as he watched Sherlock.

“ _ He _ ,” John corrected under his breath from the kitchen where he couldn’t be heard. “ _ You  _ are doing absolutely nothing, you waste of–”

“John,” Sherlock called and John actually  _ jumped,  _ thinking he was caught being a  _ bit not good.  _ “Could you help me, please?” Sherlock gestured towards the couch.

“Of–”

“Oh, it’s okay, I’ve got it,” Kensington interrupted again. “John’s making tea. I move my furniture around all the time, so I’m used to it.”

John glared at the back of Kensington’s head and Sherlock finally caught the army doctor’s gaze and it shocked him. Was John... _ jealous?  _ Sherlock looked at Kensington and inwardly frowned. Of  _ him?  _

John turned back to the kitchen, his entire stance tense, but Sherlock knew he would have to speak to him later, to let him know there was nothing to worry–

“Okay!” Kensington exclaimed. “All done.”

Abruptly, footsteps sounded up the stairs and Sherlock knew those steps well.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock called out to her.

“What’s all that noise about?” she inquired as she stepped into the flat. She looked between Sherlock and Kensington, poking her head around to the second doorway to see John. “Case?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said and, turning to Kensington said, “Thomas, our landlady, Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson, this is DI Kensington.”

“Oh, lovely to meet you,” she smiled at him, then she walked into the kitchen to where John was now waiting for the water to boil. As Sherlock and Kensington fell into conversation, John leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Mrs. Hudson gave him a knowing look and patted his exposed hand. “Bit eye-sey that one,” Mrs. Hudson said quietly, nodding towards Kensington. “It’s like Sherlock’s a meal,” she began to giggle. “Now, I’ve known a few alphas in my day, but  _ God!”  _ she laughed harder.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Hudson. Not funny.”

“Oh, I’m sorry dear,” she frowned empathetically, chastising herself, patting John’s hand before she stopped entirely, letting her hands clasp together. “But you can’t  _ actually  _ think Sherlock would fall for any of that. It’s  _ Sherlock,  _ dear.”

John knew she was right. He knew. He was a rational man. Occasionally. But, the alpha within John  _ refused  _ to sit down and shut up. All he could think was Sherlock was  _ his _ . He wanted to show everyone who the omega belonged to, but John knew it was genetics and, unfortunately, he was being a child. 

“It’ll be alright,” Mrs. Hudson sighed with a soft, understanding smile. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said a little louder so everyone could hear, and retreated back the way she came. 

Eventually, Lestrade replaced Mrs. Hudson as heavier footsteps sounded up the stairs. John began making tea and headed into the sitting room where he set the tray onto the coffee table.

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock murmured appreciatively as he took a sip. Lestrade grabbed his up, then Kensington.

Suddenly, John almost understood what it was like to be Sherlock. He cursed himself for failing to put something in Kensington’s mug to see how he’d react, immediately thinking of how many illegal chemicals Sherlock harbored. Sherlock smirked in realisation, but decided to focus on the case at hand.

“Crime scene photos,” Sherlock said, holding his hand out towards Lestrade. The detective inspector handed over the file and Sherlock flipped it open. John joined, letting himself look over Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock moved the photos so that John could see better and they looked through them together. The two victims were women, dark hair, in their early thirties. When they were finished, Sherlock began attaching the pictures to the wall. 

John began looking through the autopsies and abruptly looked up. “These women are omegas.”

Sherlock turned at that. “The killer is an alpha.”

“Because of the sadistic way of the killings?” Kensington inquired, looking between John and Sherlock. “It’s about power and control?”

“Precisely,” Sherlock nodded, holding out his hand for the autopsy. His eyes skimmed the pages and came to the same conclusion John had come to. “They covered their tracks.”

“But there’s always something,” John noted lightly which made Sherlock smile warmly in his direction.

“Yes, there is  _ always  _ something.”

 

~~~

 

It was around three in the morning when John called it a night for Sherlock. Both Lestrade and Kensington had long dozed off, so John walked over to Sherlock, stopping behind him where the man was muttering something unintelligible. John placed his hand on Sherlock’s waist, something solid to bring his detective back. Sherlock jumped, but he turned to John with an affectionate gaze.

“How long was I gone?” he inquired.

“Just a few hours, you just got a little distracted,” John murmured, kissing Sherlock on his cheek. “Time for bed though.” He ignored Sherlock’s whine as he woke Lestrade and Kensington. “We’ll pick things up tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow,” Sherlock muttered petulantly. 

“He’s got a point–” Kensington started.

“ _ Out. _ ” John growled, causing Kensington to go silent. Lestrade’s eyebrows rose in shock, then he led Kensington out of the flat with a small  _ good night _ before the sound of the front door closing could be heard.

Sherlock was gazing at John in shock. “You never use your alpha voice,” his tone was low, sultry, but John wasn’t having it tonight. Sherlock needed to  _ sleep. _

“Go to bed.” he sighed.

Sherlock deflated a little at that. “Oh. You actually meant sleep.”

“Sherlock. You have to sleep–have you eaten today?”

The detective went quiet at that. “No…” 

Despite himself, John began laughing. Sherlock looked at him in confusion as John cupped his face. “For God’s sake, eat something. Then, we’ll go to bed.”

Sherlock pouted, but he slowly nodded. “Okay, John.”

“Thank you,” John sighed in relief.

The pair treated into the kitchen where John decided that something as simple as toast would and tea would suffice as long as it meant Sherlock was getting something into his body. They ate in an amicable silence and, when Sherlock was finished, John rewarded him with a kiss.

Sherlock leaned into it, soaking up as much of John as he could before it ended and they were forced to get ready for bed like a  _ boring  _ couple.

“I hate it as much as you do,” John began when they were their bedroom undressing and saw that Sherlock was pouting. “But you need sleep.”

“You know, sex has proven to induce sleep. Your oxytocin levels–”

“Come here,” John murmured as he climbed into bed, entirely nude. Sherlock gazed at him, interested, and undressed entirely before climbing into bed. “On my lap.” Sherlock was too interested to feign a suspicious look as he straddled John’s lap. John gazed up at Sherlock with a fond expression. “You’re lovely, did you know that?”

Sherlock felt his face heat up and John smirked as he watched the flush in Sherlock’s cheeks rush down his neck. John brushed the back of his fingers along Sherlock’s cheekbone. 

“Absolutely lovely.” he murmured as he pulled Sherlock closer. The detective forcibly gasped as he realised his cock was pressed up against John’s. “This what you wanted?”

Sherlock nodded vigorously, at a complete loss for words.  _ Clever, perfect John. _

John reached into the nightstand beside them for the bottle of lube. Sherlock watched, entranced as John poured lube onto his palm. He wrapped his hand around the length of Sherlock and immediately felt the muscles within Sherlock’s thighs tremble. “There we go,” he murmured, slowly stroking Sherlock, running his thumb under his frenulum with each pass, eliciting the most delicious sounds from the omega’s cupid bow lips. John pumped his cock, using the man’s precum as extra lubrication, causing a shudder to roll down Sherlock’s spine. 

Soon, Sherlock felt his orgasm rushing too close for comfort. He attempted to stave it off, to no avail.

“J-John–”

“I know,” John breathed, his eyes focused on Sherlock’s reactions. “Come for me. Let me see you.”

It was all Sherlock needed as he came for John, his cock pulsing as he spilled over John’s hand. Sherlock breathed a moan of relief, letting his forehead press against John’s.

“Alright,” John muttered. “ _ Bed. _ ”

“No,” Sherlock murmured, still trying to catch his breath.

“Sherlock, we agreed–” John started, but Sherlock cut him off by pressing his lips to the army doctor’s. Their lips molded perfectly and John moaned as Sherlock ran the tip of his tongue along John’s bottom lip. John granted him access, their tongues battling for dominance. Sherlock won, much to John’s shock and, abruptly, Sherlock’s lips were gone from his, then kissing down his jaw, then sucking a bruise against his neck. “ _ Sherlock _ ,” John moaned as he realised Sherlock was sucking another bruise into his skin. “W-what are you doing?”

“Oh, John,” Sherlock against his skin, brushing his lips against his earlobe. “You’re just as much  _ mine  _ as I am  _ yours. _ ”

John was sure he almost came from that declaration alone, but Sherlock was far from finished, that much he knew. Sherlock lowered himself, pressing kisses down John’s chest, his thumbs brushing and pinching John’s nipples, causing John to moan low in his throat.

“You are absolutely breathtaking, John,” Sherlock breathed as he drew lower, kissing John’s hipbones as his hand pulled John’s cock into his hand, giving  his cock an experimental stroke. John moaned, his hips unconsciously raising for  _ more.  _ “I  _ told  _ you,” Sherlock smirked devilishly. As badly as John wanted to retort, he was rendered speechless as Sherlock ran his tongue from the base of John’s cock to the tip.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” John shuddered.

“I’ve got you,” Sherlock smirked as those sinful lips wrapped around the tip of John’s cock and John watched as Sherlock swallowed him down inch by inch until John was making noises he didn’t even  _ realise  _ he could muster. 

“ _ Sherlock, _ ” John breathed as Sherlock bobbed his head, letting his tongue swirl around the length of John, revelling in the taste of him. “Oh my God,” he could feel his bollocks tightening, pulling up towards his body. Sherlock knew this of course and grabbed John’s hands, placing them in his hair. John groaned as he wrapped his fingers through Sherlock’s raven curls and rose his hips, watching as his cock disappeared down Sherlock’s throat. “Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” John gasped and, then, he was coming. 

Sherlock moaned around him, letting John use him until the alpha became too oversensitive. He pulled Sherlock up and gazed at him for a long moment in silent amazement and then kissed Sherlock, rolling them so that John hovered over him. He could taste him on Sherlock’s tongue, moaning into the omega’s mouth until they slowed, to the point of kissing lazily.

“Are you ready to go to bed now?” John inquired, a gentle smile appearing on his face.

Sherlock gave his own answering smile. “Now I am.”

 

~~~

The next morning, Sherlock and John showered together, quickly, trying to touch as little of each other as possible before getting a cab.

When they got to Lestrade’s office, he glanced up and sighed in relief. “Got the list of the runners, we haven’t been able to track down either of them.”

Well, narrow it down,” Sherlock suddenly said. “It has to be one of the runners.” John and Lestrade looked at Sherlock in shock as the room went quiet. in the room went quiet. “ _ Now!”  _ Sherlock exclaimed. Lestrade started flipping through papers and Sherlock turned to John, his own eyes widened. “How did I not see it? A sadist! He wants– _ needs _ – to see people experience his work. He was interrogated, he got to tell the story, got to experience the pleasure of seeing people’s reactions. He makes his victims  _ look  _ at him, John. They’ve all seen him–he hid in plain sight!” Sherlock turned back to the DI. “Lestrade!”

The detective inspector immediately looked up from his files.

“Think about this and think  _ hard.  _ Was there  _ anyone  _ who stood out? Anyone who was too interested, too helpful compared to others who were frightened or haunted, wanting to leave as soon as possible?”

Lestrade only shrugged, his expression confused. It only took a second, but John noticed. He watched Sherlock’s entire body come to a halt. He looked over at Lestrade who looked terrified as they knew this look all too well.

Sherlock knew who the killer was.

“John?” Sherlock said too calmly. 

“Yes?”

“Lock the door.” John frowned, but immediately crossed Lestrade’s office to lock the three of them within the space. “Time?”

“One fifteen,” Lestrade answered, checking his watch.

“Okay,” Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath. “We have two hours and forty five minutes. Because the killer is Kensington.”

Lestrade’s jaw dropped and John stopped entirely.

“ _ What?”  _ Lestrade breathed. “How?”

“New transfer. New credentials. Hid in plain sight–committed the murders in broad daylight. What did he say John, about moving our couch?”

John thought about it, but then it immediately hit him. “He said that he moved his furniture around all the time.”

“Obsessive compulsive. He does things in threes, he can’t have it any other way. He moved the sofa around so much that Mrs. Hudson came rushing upstairs because of the noise. Also, I’m not sure either of you noticed when John brought our tea into the sitting room. I took my cup, then Lestrade, and  _ then  _ Kensington. It’s entirely unconscious. You told me, when I first met Kensington, that he wanted to put a face to the name. He wanted to look in face of the world’s only consulting detective so that he could prove to himself that he beat me. He makes his victims look at his face as he kills them. Sadist. Alpha. Lestrade, where was Kensington on the last two Tuesdays when the murders occurred?”

“Lunch,” Lestrade murmured, still in shock. “He says he prefers to take a late lunch because the restaurants aren’t as crowded. Oh,  _ God _ ,” Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“And is he out in the office now?”

“Yes,” Lestrade nodded slowly, taking a deep, steady breath. 

“Okay,” Sherlock murmured, looking between John and Lestrade. “You’re not going to like what I’m going to say next.”

John groaned in exasperation because he didn’t  _ need  _ to hear what Sherlock was going to suggest next. Lestrade looking between them, confused. “What?”

“Bait.” John muttered. “He wants to use bait.”

Lestrade gave Sherlock an exasperated look and, then nodded. “We don’t have any evidence to hold him. No fingerprints, no DNA that ties him there.”

“That was easier than I thought,” Sherlock muttered thoughtfully. “That’s frightening.”

Lestrade chuckled. “We learned from the best.”

“We won’t let him hurt the next woman.” John said, pulling his gun from his waistband. Sherlock’s eyes dilated and he blinked rapidly, reminding himself to  _ focus. _

“More than likely, he’s already kidnapped her and is holding her somewhere.” Sherlock noted aloud.

“His house?” Lestrade inquired.

“No,” Sherlock scoffed. “And no one knows him well enough to know of any hobbies or places he regularly goes to. The only option is to follow him.”

John nodded, understanding, checking the magazine. 

~~~

At three in the afternoon, Kensington was nowhere to be found. Sherlock, John, and Lestrade were sitting at a vantage point in police car, waiting. So far, the water held no dead bodies and there was no crime scene to be had.  Sherlock checked his phone for the fourth time in five minutes. “It’s three fifteen.” Sherlock noted.

“Well, this isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous car in the world,” Lestrade pointed out.

“I’ll go check,” Sherlock said, but he was out of the car faster than John could say no.

Lestrade and John rushed out of the car, but Sherlock was much too fast. Abruptly, faster than John could blink or breathe, he watched as a hidden Kensington grabbed Sherlock and turned him, pressing a blade to his neck.

“ _ Sherlock!”  _ John exclaimed pulling out his gun, rushing after him as Kensington dragged Sherlock further towards the water. Lestrade followed closely behind, removing his own gun from the holster.

“Oh,” Sherlock muttered as John and Lestrade reached them. “Rather strange turn of events. Well, bait is bait.”

“Knew you’d eventually turn up–couldn’t help yourself, could you? _ ”  _ Kensington grinned, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. He turned his attention on John and Lestrade who had their  guns pointed at him. “Get back or I’ll slit his throat!” Kensington gritted.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lestrade asked Kensington, his tone confused and irritated. “What’s it supposed to do for you? Where is the next victim?”

“My next victim is Sherlock,” Kensington said calmly. John felt his teeth grit together. “I’ll have you know–” Kensington started, but Sherlock immediately interrupted.

“Actually, none of us are interested in hearing your villainous monologue–” Sherlock began to point out in a bored tone, but Kensington cut him off.

“ _ Shut. Up.”  _ he pressed the blade down harder, causing Sherlock to go still.

“ _ Let. Him. Go. _ ” John whispered so calmly that it sent a chill up Sherlock’s spine. He felt Kensington freeze behind him. There was nothing joking or unsure in John’s tone. Unlike Lestrade, he had no questions because he didn’t  _ care _ . John’s world, the only thing he was concerned with was  _ there  _ in Kensington’s arm with a knife held to his throat. Kensington had Sherlock, sure, but John–John  _ Watson– _ had those dark blue eyes trained on Kensington which meant he  _ wasn’t  _ going to miss.

That made John immensely dangerous.

The four of them stood there, Lestrade and John’s guns trained on Kensington as his arms loosened from around Sherlock, raising his hands up in surrender. Lestrade rushed to to handcuff Kensington as John immediately wrapped Sherlock in his embrace.

“Are you alright?” John inquired, cupping his face.

Sherlock nodded, but even John noticed he looked a bit shaken. “Yes, I’m alright.”

“I’m taking you home–Greg?”

Lestrade looked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m taking Sherlock home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lestrade nodded, hauling Kensington off. 

“Come on,” John whispered, taking Sherlock’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

 

~~~

John didn’t have anymore say when they crossed the threshold over 221B as the army doctor realised that Sherlock was not  _ shaken _ , of course the madman wasn’t; he’d dealt with people wanting to murder him all the time,  _ laughed  _ at them, even. No, Sherlock Holmes was  _ aroused.   _ That realisation turned John on beyond words.

“You and that gun are going to be the death of me,” Sherlock growled as he captured John’s lips. 

“That sounds terrible out of context,” John breathed in between kisses, then–suddenly–they were were giggling. “You’d have to admit though,” John murmured, pressing Sherlock against the wall behind him as his lips skimmed up the length of the omega’s neck, scenting him. “It’d be a lovely way to go.”

Sherlock gazed down at him, his pupils dilated, irises nearly black. “I  _ absolutely  _ agree.”

Without anymore preamble, John lifted Sherlock into his arms and carried him into their room. Sherlock had stripped his coat and started on the buttons of his shirt by the time poured him onto the bed, climbing in between the omega’s legs to press against him, needing to relieve some of the pressure. Sherlock gasped as John’s hardened, clothed cock brushed against his. His hips lifted, wanting more, and John gave, grinding their hips together.

John’s lips found Sherlock’s, breathless and he swallowed the omega’s whimpers. Now, he could smell the slick gathering in Sherlock’s pants and John needed him naked  _ now.  _

“Strip. Now.” John growled, finding the will to pull away. Sherlock practically ripped his shirt off, then his shoes and socks. For the next thirty seconds, the pair quickly undressed, then John pushed Sherlock down onto the bed below, his eyes hungrily climbing down Sherlock’s nude form, something John knew he would  _ never  _ be accustomed to seeing. Sherlock was all  _ his.  _ “Spread your legs for me, love,” John murmured, his hands brushing Sherlock’s strong thighs. Sherlock parted his legs, gazing up at John in anticipation.

John laid himself between Sherlock’s slick soaked thighs, scenting his omega, spreading Sherlock’s legs as far as they’d go. Sherlock, propped on his elbows, watched John through clouded, dark eyes. John brushed hips to Sherlock’s inner thigh, smelling him there, the alpha within him growling low in his throat.

“I could have killed that Alpha,” John noted, then he was reminded of what Sherlock had said earlier. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Sherlock chuckled, breathless. “It’d be a lovely way to go.”

John met his eyes, dark blue gazing upon verdigris. “I absolutely agree,” his eyes sweeping up Sherlock’s body in such a possessive way, it made Sherlock’s hardened cock twitch against his stomach. John had the eyes of a man who was willing to  _ kill  _ for him and Sherlock knew it was absolutely true due to their very first case together. John’s head lowered and licked a long stripe up Sherlock’s cock, causing the man below him fall back onto the pillows, shuddering violently at the unexpected sensation. 

“Tell me what you want,” John murmured, licking Sherlock’s thighs clean, groaning at the taste of his slick. 

“I…” Sherlock trailed off, distracted at the feeling of John’s tongue brushing against his skin, lowering towards his bollocks. “Your tongue.”

“Hmm,” John hummed against him and, with blinding speed, turned Sherlock onto his stomach. Sherlock released a surprised gasp and it was the only preparation time he had before John spread him open and his tongue was rounding his hole. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Sherlock moaned lowly. “Oh,  _ John _ ,” his cock hung heavily between his legs, begging to be touched, but John didn’t grant him mercy as his tongue began to delve and explore within him, slowly ripping him apart and piecing him back together.

John fucked Sherlock with his tongue, moaning at the taste of Sherlock’s slick on his tongue, sweet and heady, his brain short wiring at the very taste of his omega on his tongue. He didn’t think he would be able to get enough. John’s hands, grasping Sherlock’s arse began to knead his skin–Sherlock noted–so that his cock would brush against the sheets below him, sending shocks up his spine at the dual sensations–John’s tongue filling him and his cock pushing against the sheets. It was too much all at once and, yet, not enough. 

“John,  _ please _ ,” Sherlock cried out, trembling. “Please.”

John and he finally let up, pulling back to let Sherlock take a break. He turned his omega over and leaned over to kiss him, his tongue running along Sherlock’s bottom lip. Sherlock opened up and gasped as their tongues met. The taste of his own slick caused more to seep out from within him.

John spread Sherlock’s thighs as he rose up onto his knees.

“You want my knot?” John growled lowly.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Sherlock moaned, his hands running down John’s chest to grip his hips. John gripped his cock and slowly guided himself into Sherlock, his omega’s back arching up as he was filled.

“ _ God,  _ Sherlock,” John groaned, leaning over to rest his forehead on Sherlock’s. “How do you feel better every time?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Sherlock gasped quickly, raising his hips needily. “Fuck me, please, John. Fuck me.”

John pulled back, onto his knees and slowly began to push into Sherlock whose hands clambered up to grab him. John, instead, took Sherlock's wrist and effectively pinned the man down, holding his wrists above his head with one hand.

Sherlock gasped at the suddenly turn of events his eyes clouding over as John hovered closely over him. Sherlock felt his pulse quicken at the sight in John's eye. The alpha within him was apparent, taking control and Sherlock was more than ready.

“He  _ touched  _ you,” John growled as his hips ground into Sherlock's. “I should have ripped his throat out.”

Sherlock's raven head of curls flew back as John tilted his hips, pounding against his prostate again and again.

“ _ John, _ ” it was all Sherlock could muster as Sherlock felt himself climbing higher towards oblivion. 

“ _ No,”  _ John abruptly said, pulling out of Sherlock entirely. Sherlock blinked rapidly, confused but before he could complain, John flipped him onto his first and pushed back into his omega to the hilt.

Sherlock whimpered, his face crashing into the pillows below as more slick gushed out between him and John.

Unconsciously, Sherlock began to grind down on the length of John's cock. John groaned, threading his fingers into Sherlock's hair, allowing Sherlock to continue, watching his omega fuck himself on his cock. John knew they were entirely too pent up and they weren't going to last very long at this rate, but John abruptly placed the palm of his head between Sherlock's shoulder blades and pushed the man down and pulled out almost entirely before slamming back into Sherlock, eliciting a breathless gasp from the omega whose thighs were now trembling.

“ _ Good,”  _ John breathed, leaning over Sherlock's back, lying their hips flat on the bed so that Sherlock's cock brushed against the bed. In this position, Sherlock noted, John hit his prostate upon every thrust. “You're so good for me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock involuntarily shuddered out a moan and reached out his hand, desperately needing John to ground him. John knew and interacted their fingers, pushing deeply into the omega below him, leaving no room for escape. Sherlock felt trapped in the best way within the cage of John's arms, his torso holding his body down. Sherlock knew he could have never done this for anyone else, but John. Here, he was entirely vulnerable. Here, John had all control.

And Sherlock gave in entirely.

“ _ Mine,  _ Sherlock.” John growled possessively, eliciting a moan from Sherlock.

“Yours,” he returned in a keening breath, his hand tightened around John's fingers. “A-always yours, only yours, John,  _ umgh _ .”

He could feel John's forehead pressed against the nape of his neck, the sweat coating their bodies, the length and girth of John's cock driving Sherlock to the brink of his orgasm.

John sped up his thrusts, his free hand turning Sherlock's head to the side, letting his teeth nip at the bonding bite on Sherlock's neck.

That was it for Sherlock. 

Pleasure shot down his spine to his bollocks and through his veins as his hips stuttered, spilling onto the sheets below him. John continued, his thrusts more focused and determined as his knot formed at the base of his cock. Sherlock, although he was still working through the aftershocks of his orgasm, pushed back against John, eliciting a moan from the alpha above him.

“ _ John _ ,” Sherlock groaned. “Knot me.  _ Alpha. _ ”

Pleasure surged through John as his knot spread Sherlock wide, sending the omega spiraling into a second orgasm, his hand grasping at the sheet while his other hand squeezed John's into a vice grip.

John spilled into Sherlock, thrusting into the man until his aftershocks came to a stop, then he rolled them onto their side so that John was cuddling Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmured softly when their breathing had slowed and all was calm. His fingers traced John’s, the lines, little scars he’d either deduced or asked John about long ago and hooked his finger around John’s index finger, the one he used to shoot. “For today.”

John nuzzled Sherlock’s curls. “Sherlock, I would rather die than let someone take you away from me again.”

Sherlock nodded. “I understand. So much more than you know,” 

John pulled the man in impossibly closer as he waited for his knot to deflate. When it did, John gently pulled out of Sherlock, much to the man’s dismay and turned him so that he could  _ see  _ him. “We’re going to keep saving each other’s lives,” John pointed out, kissing the tip of Sherlock’s nose.

“I know,” Sherlock whispered, brushing his fingers through John’s silver-blonde hair, his gaze soft and loving. “And that means everything to me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please let me know what you liked, or if you have a favourite part/moment, or line. All feedback is immensely important to me and all of your comments matter.
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**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, let me know your favourite line or what you enjoyed most about the chapter(s)! All feedback is important to me.
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